‘Aye, it is!’ returned the girl; not speaking,
but pouring out the words in one continuous and vehement
scream. ’It is my living; and the cold,
wet, dirty streets are my home; and you’re the
wretch that drove me to them long ago, and that’ll
keep me there, day and night, day and night, till
I die!’
‘I shall do you a mischief!’ interposed
the Jew, goaded by these reproaches; ‘a mischief
worse than that, if you say much more!’
The girl said nothing more; but, tearing her hair
and dress in a transport of passion, made such a rush
at the Jew as would probably have left signal marks
of her revenge upon him, had not her wrists been seized
by Sikes at the right moment; upon which, she made
a few ineffectual struggles, and fainted.
‘She’s all right now,’ said Sikes,
laying her down in a corner. ‘She’s
uncommon strong in the arms, when she’s up in
this way.’
The Jew wiped his forehead: and smiled, as if
it were a relief to have the disturbance over; but
neither he, nor Sikes, nor the dog, nor the boys,
seemed to consider it in any other light than a common
occurance incidental to business.
‘It’s the worst of having to do with women,’
said the Jew, replacing his club; ’but they’re
clever, and we can’t get on, in our line, without
’em. Charley, show Oliver to bed.’
’I suppose he’d better not wear his best
clothes tomorrow, Fagin, had he?’ inquired Charley
Bates.
‘Certainly not,’ replied the Jew, reciprocating
the grin with which Charley put the question.
Master Bates, apparently much delighted with his commission,
took the cleft stick: and led Oliver into an
adjacent kitchen, where there were two or three of
the beds on which he had slept before; and here, with
many uncontrollable bursts of laughter, he produced
the identical old suit of clothes which Oliver had
so much congratulated himself upon leaving off at
Mr. Brownlow’s; and the accidental display of
which, to Fagin, by the Jew who purchased them, had
been the very first clue received, of his whereabout.
‘Put off the smart ones,’ said Charley,
’and I’ll give ’em to Fagin to take
care of. What fun it is!’
Poor Oliver unwillingly complied. Master Bates
rolling up the new clothes under his arm, departed
from the room, leaving Oliver in the dark, and locking
the door behind him.
The noise of Charley’s laughter, and the voice
of Miss Betsy, who opportunely arrived to throw water
over her friend, and perform other feminine offices
for the promotion of her recovery, might have kept
many people awake under more happy circumstances than
those in which Oliver was placed. But he was
sick and weary; and he soon fell sound asleep.
OLIVER’S DESTINY CONTINUING UNPROPITIOUS, BRINGS
A GREAT MAN TO LONDON TO INJURE HIS REPUTATION
